The Blog

There have been things that have made me want to blog over the last few months.  For example, for a while W2O formerly known as baby girl would come out of her room and clomp around our house in one high-heeled, blue, sparkling Cinderella slipper like she was just fine with waiting a few months for Prince Charming to bring the other one back.  I wanted to be sure not to forget about that.  And also the night where Captain K. got out of his chair at the dinner table and calmly came over to my chair and said, "I lost my tooth" and pointed to a gap in his mouth. 

"Where is it?"  I asked. 

"I think I swallowed it," he said simply enough. 

Captain K. has to be the most relaxed tooth-loser and tooth-swallower I have ever met.  He'll let a loose tooth sit in his mouth for weeks without giving it more than a couple of wiggles and maybe a few passing, "Isn't it cool I have a loose tooth's."  But he doesn't worry the tooth with his tongue or beg for us to tie a string to it and slam a door.  He's good with waiting.  He was a bit concerned about the tooth fairy still coming when he had no evidence to leave under his pillow to prove he was a tooth-loser, but we wrote a note up explaining the situation and she was very accommodating.  And then there's the Little Linebacker.  I don't want to forget how it took FOR-EV-ER to get the Little Linebacker potty-trained, but now that he's all squared away with the potty he is on it every five and a half minutes.  "I gotta go pee!" he happily and oh-so-proudly beams jumping up and running thick-leggedly toward his bathroom.    If I suggest that perhaps he should wait until he really, really feels like he's gotta go - or at least ten minutes instead of five and a half, he breaks down into tears.  So for now, I'm trying to let the potty obsession ride.  Every other time he comes back from the bathroom his underwear is on inside-out which keeps me smiling and therefore somewhat more patient.  And then the Sidekick and her love of the tucked in shirt - I wanted to blog about that.  It doesn't matter if the pants top out at her waist or mid-chest, she's tucking in her shirt.  The other night I let her wear her pink footless tights to bed and she faithfully tucked her favorite firework pajama shirt into the top of 'em which made a big bulge at her belly that the thick pink seam of the tights rumbled over. 

It all makes me want to gather up my kids and never let them get older.  They are so innocent right now, so beautiful and transparent.  And despite the fact that I think I'm losing my mind for about 80% of my day what with the noise and the mess and the fighting and the tears, I know that this is all happening too fast and that I need to leave some bread crumbs so I can find my way back later when I wonder what this land really looked like that I once visited.

And so that is why I have finally blogged tonight.  I just wish I would have found my motivation yesterday, because today I happened to slice the top of my left-hand middle-finger pretty doggone deep while cutting a pear with a new and effectively sharp Cutco knife.  The band-aid on the tip of that finger has made almost every "e" I've typed tonight get followed up by an "r" that had to be erased.  If it wasn't funny, it probably would have ("havre") made me wait even ("evern") longer to do what I've known I should be doing for quite a while.  Three cheers for a funny life.